Laundry in the TARDIS
by TercesTardis
Summary: Rose is having some trouble with the laundry.


**Hi yes, it's me TercesTardis, and I'm back from the dead. I'm a little rusty, it's been almost a year since I've been back in fanfiction, and I wrote this in literally five minutes. (I timed it.) But hey, it's the thought that counts, right?**

Rose assumed living in a sentient time travelling spaceship would be easy and stress-free when it came to domestic matters. After all, if there was a danger of crash-landing in a random planet or opening the door and accidentally falling into the pool, at least the laundry was easy.

Which was an absolute lie. The TARDIS refused to wash clothes. There would be the gigantic wardrobe room, but at the end of the day, each room had a closet, Rose had several pieces of clothes she had brought along with her that the TARDIS simply did not allow to be hung in the wardrobe. Not to mention Rose had to wash the clothes from the wardrobe as well, which was unfair. The wardrobe clothes were agreed to be the TARDIS' property. Rose had to walk to the laundry room, dump her clothes into the washing machine, and do all those chores.

What Rose found completely unfair was that the TARDIS did the Doctor's laundry whenever he wanted.

"The washing machine's acting up," she said. "You probably did something wrong when you were doing the laundry yesterday."

The Doctor snorted. "I don't do the laundry."

Rose started. "Excuse me?"

"Why do I need to do the laundry? We're in the most advanced ship in the whole universe."

"But I need to do the laundry!" Rose protested.

"Do you?" The Doctor responded, not really listening anymore.

"So what, the TARDIS just does it for you?" Rose said, annoyed. "Gets all the clothes you messed up and returns it magically pressed and cleaned on your bed, like an invisible maid?"

"Well, no, that would be silly," the Doctor frowned up at her. "I pick up my laundry myself. Terrible job, but the TARDIS said that she does too much for me. I have to learn to be independent, she said." He rolled his eyes.

"That's favoritism!" Rose yelled at the console. "The washing machine is always broken. And for some reason, the heat in the laundry room is always on the maximum. Doing laundry in there is like working in the Sahara Desert!" She stomped off.

When she arrived at the laundry room, it was boiling hot yet again. She mumbled indignantly and pulled off her jacket. She was still sweating, although she only wore a tank top.

Not really paying attention, she scooped all the clothes at once and dumped them into her basket. Then she marched back to her room, still annoyed.

The next day, the Doctor was distraught. "Rose, I can't find my leather."

Rose rolled her eyes and pointed at his jacket. "It's right there."

"No, no, I have seven of these," the Doctor argued. "But I only have four right now."

"Oh, what a tragedy," Rose chuckled. "You only have four."

"Yes, it is, actually!" The Doctor said, offended. "Leather jackets are - "

"Fantastic," Rose finished, grinning. "I know. We'll find it soon. D'ya remember the time I lost my sneakers, and we found it - "

"Yeah, but my leather is more important than your old ratty sneakers," the Doctor interrupted.

"Ratty?"

The Doctor ignored her and paced around. "It could've been kidnapped."

Rose burst into laughter. "A leather jacket? Are you serious?"

"I'm serious!" The Doctor said.

"You're bonkers," his companion told him. She turned away. "I'm gonna go to my room for a bit, wait for you to calm down."

"But Rose," the Doctor said. "My leather!"

Rose hit him with three leather jackets and one oddly-patterned scarf the next day.

"Ow!" The Doctor scowled. "What was that for?"

"I told you. The TARDIS screws up laundry all the time. Your jackets - and whatever that is - got mixed up with my own stuff."

"I bet you hid my leather."

"I did not!"

"It's never happened before!"

"Maybe it's cuz one of us was responsible and always checked if she got the right laundry!"

"There are eight machines there, how could it have gotten mixed up?" The Doctor demanded.

"I told you - BAD LAUNDRY!

"Stop blaming the TARDIS!"

"You really can't handle laundry getting mixed up, can you?"

"Oh, now that's just mean - "

What ensued was an argument of yelling and various blames.

After that incident, the washing machines stopped working for weeks.

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